Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Orbital Resistance
by Akiyama-64
Summary: "I don't care if half the world dies. I will not stop it because you have created the perfect ending for him. When it's done, everything will be depleted from him like he has done to me, and he will suffer forever in the same loop. He will never achieve his vengeance, never find love, and never be happy."
1. Prologue: This Job Sucks Now

**Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Orbital Resistance, Arc 1: Brothers in Distress**

_Dedicated for Mom: You inspire me to do so much._

__"You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist." ___—_ Friedrich Nietzsche

**Prologue: This Job Sucks Now**

"Ver!" a fraxure yelled, running up to the blaziken with his stumpy draconian legs. "How dare you leave! After all that hiking to destroy those devastating legendaries, you're done?"

He continued walking, rolling his head up to let the sunset glisten off the back of his beige, feathered head. _Another annoyance of the day_, he thought. He walked away from the sunset while disregarding the little dragon behind his large leather backpack filled with berries, orbs, and his old spear that once cut through ferals.

He twiddled his claws on his red headcrests and said, "Wruendra killed the legendaries we tracked. For example–" He pointed at the clear sky above. "–Tornadus no longer buries villages with storms because they didn't give tribute. That's done, and I'm done with you all." Ver brought his claw down as a honchkrow perched on a birch tree like a lump of charcoal against the white branches into the leaves as the wind waved through the greenery.

The fraxure would not rest like Ver did, so he protested further and said, "_We_ are not done." The verbal assault only assisted in making his steps faster.

"I have sane pokémon to stay with."

"Oh! I get it. You quit to join that guild for the bribe? Just like Sword, huh?"

"No," Ver said, scanning his memory over the past month. No one offered him money to leave because he didn't even wait for such an offer. Indeed, why go feral like them? Things were once fun, but now he hated to remember his past.

* * *

><p>He did not know why legendaries decided to destroy every civilization they could. It may have been foolish, but each civilization offered goodwill upon defeating each legendary. Thinking back on it, they should have sensed how stubborn they were.<p>

A single legendary would find himself at the mercy of the town, therefore, they met on their high mountains and planned infamous attacks like the Chansey daycare killings. Such terrible beings were not born with empathy. Legendaries who did not participate in those deeds remained neutral to what their siblings did, and some just watched villages burn.

Around that time, some pokémon showed up with abnormal power. They could compress twenty or more years of training into one year, and Wruendra, who was probably sleeping now, sliced a lugia in half on the first hit. Due to those higher powers' arrogance, they all attacked, and they all died.

Even Palkia and Dialga fell.

Too bad Ver was stuck on a grocery trip during that battle. Ver woke up to rocks being thrown at him every morning to start training, and, while he gained power, Wreundra and Terrell did everything in the end. Of course, he yelled at Terrell for ordering him to miss the fight, but he said, "Oh hush, the Sleep Seeds you gathered made a difference." What an anti-climax for the forty-seven other pokémon in the group.

In the later celebration of victory, those two stayed in their offices. Terrell managed the party, but Wruendra played with toys and read children's books. This was shocking to Ver because Terrell called himself a general, and Terrell called Wruendra a king, and Ver hadn't heard either word before. _Whatever, I suppose they're improving the world_, Ver thought while he watched a boring victory speech,_ but what's that nonsense about Western greatness? Is she talking about these delicious caramel apples?_

Nonetheless, he enjoyed the parades, with dances of thousands of pokémon. After one week of not sleeping, he dropped in exhaustion and woke up thirty hours later to his teammates patting him on the back for being so fought over by pokémon to host and nurture him. Furthermore, all forty-nine of them achieved similar results over that week following the burial of Dialga's crystal.

After another few days of rest, he took on a mission to capture an escaped convict—some aggron for an Rank A solo mission. With wrists blazing, he sprinted forward and yelled, "Hey! You're under arrest!"

"Ver? Are you crazy?" he said, turning around on a road much like the one Ver now walked on. "You're taking me back? I refuse."

"Toby? No, that can't be right," Ver said, keeping his guard raised as he faced the steel spikes of the foe's head. "How? What's going on?" However, his attention was false, and he would have been easily swept aside in his amazement by what he said next.

"I wanted to ship goods down this road like I always have, then they imposed a fee." He shrugged and said, "But they simply knocked me out when I used some muddy backroad to go around the outrageous fine. Woke up in some gravel pit with orders to cut rocks because I'm a 'smuggler' now, whatever that is."

_How_ _could this be?_ Toby had provided Ver discounted oran berries for optimum battling for the preservation of civilization. That year of training and brotherhood diverged from him.

Toby raised him in his early days and supported him to start the whole adventure, so Ver found it best to pretend he never saw him. _Big deal_,_one failed mission_. . .

Terrell, still the grand hero who was too good to show his face outside of his new office, called for Ver the next day to demand an answer for his failure. A threat of demotion brought Ver to him. However, citing the need to keep the papers unburnt, he kept Ver outside of the hand-crafted wood door which featured the forty-nine pokémon leading towards a great sun over a coastline in claw carvings.

"You failed that mission on purpose, Ver. Any reason why?" he said while stamping sounds emitted from his papers.

"What are you doing overturning the common law?" Ver replied.

"This is the absolute law." he said, slapping something on his desk inside. "Have you been deaf the whole year? Get with the program or get out. Wruendra demands a just society, and that's what we'll give."

"You mean I have to keep doing that same nonsense? Put Toby back in a prison camp for trading?"

"Yes," Terrell said, bored as if Ver was a low advisor, "Let me remind you that Wruendra took them down with our convoy's help. He was as strong as forty of us, and sixty of you: You are the same assistant that hunts for him, trains for him, and deflects attacks for him today as you were last month." His voice was calm like the stone floor Ver scratched his claws on. In contrast, Ver's condescending tone had no effect on that pokémon's morals.

"Screw this, I got stuck with you because I thought we were alike, and you won't even open a door," he said, clenching his claws as he considered cutting up Terrell's memorial door. He looked away, disgusted that he was actually crafted onto that door somewhere. "You're a fool, Terrell. I don't know the pokémon around here well, but I bet they'll kill you if this keeps up."

Ver expected hubris as a reply, but was disappointed to hear him say, "Listen, eastern boy, anybody can kill a sleeping pokémon. Even Wruendra can die like that. Give me time . . . we just need the Westerners to like us." Ver sighed and walked away from Terrell now that his voice still considered him part of "us." Ver wondered if he should complain to Wruendra, but he knew ten guards would stand at his room's door since that lazy dragon only wanted to sit in his room reading artifacts of long gone humans while he dictated a museum's design. Indeed, Ver could not figure out why Wruendra's words led to Toby's situation. "You'll be back," he said, causing Ver to grunt and move onward.

"Shut up, I'd rather sunbathe and grow weak than take your orders." Terrell probably felt like he just fired the worst employee of his life, but Ver felt great to be the worst.

* * *

><p>That was why he now took Toby's path eastward. He couldn't believe that he awoke to this. <em>Did I actually rest for only three days?<em> he thought. Everyone wanted him to reject how he felt about the new system. Just take the money and be cool with them, they mocked. Those missions paid well, but he had a better life to go to—one where Toby made him feel like a friend instead of a tool.

"Grr, then why leave?" that fraxure said, probably about to remind Ver again of how "they" defeated Palkia.

"Because I want to."

"To the thankless Easterners? Terrell will have you killed if he sees you around," he said, his voice about to arch like a nail against a chalkboard. Ver clenched his claws and continued walking while expecting him to launch an attack if he were so serious. To be fair, Ver didn't care that the Easterners declined the system because courting for a female would be so easy anywhere he went. That much he figured after the nights of parties.

Realizing what he said, the dragon took pride in the statement and mocked him further, "But we won't need to kill you. Ha! You'll rot without us because that's what you deserve for breaking our oath!" However, Ver merely sighed and the fraxure clenched his claws and shook a fist at the departing blaziken.

_What a teammate._

"Shut up, Greg," he said, raising his claw up to show the backside of his claw over his shoulder.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

lucariodarkness745 of DA made a ton of comments and edits for this when he beta-read this prologue. Excellent work.

Dragoonvulpi of DA later assisted on this prologue.

If you have not played Pokémon Mystery Dungeon's first two games, you really should play them. Doing so is not needed because this story will use a different setting from the games while taking lots of inspiration from my experience with them.

If you're observant, you'll probably notice something which exists in the background of the games and in this fanfiction, but is not mentioned in any PMD fanfiction that I've read so far. Actually, it's a little more prominent in this story since I need its services, and I developed it with the help of many people. It's so obvious that you won't see it. You have plenty of time to think about it because this fan fic will have a lot of chapters, and, eventually, you will see it.

Also, I plan to revise chapters a lot based on the input from reviewers. I want to get better so that this story can see justice. Hit it hard and form it into a good sword. I also promise that I will review your own works if you review mine.

The Boring Copyright Notice

There can only be one way for Nintendo to stop me from writing. . . a lawsuit. It's true that anything I write is automatically copyrighted without some mention of opt-out, however, in an utter insanity of law, one could sue me if they take my characters and use them in some real novel if there is no claim to original characters and other materials not "owned" by Nintendo or others. Besides, it would be inconsistent with this fan fiction to claim anything else about copyright. What? You wanted some "I don't claim to own Pokémon"? Of course I don't own it, silly.

Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International is my chosen license where possible to apply. All you need to do to use anything in this work is put me (and you should ask for my real name) in the credits while saying what license I use. This means absolutely anyone can do anything with this work, even sell books of it or do any other commercial activity. Anything more than that license, and I'm practicing voodoo with a vacuum.

Thanks Satoshi Tajira and all the other workers of the glorious Pokémon franchise for all their hard work. Shin-ichiro Tomie and Emiko Tanaka (the writers of PMD 1 and 2) and others at Chusoft have my thanks as well for producing two of the most worthwhile games in my life.

Log of Changes

January 9, 2015: Improved exposition.

January 21, 2015: Edited more, made improvements to this prologue. Chapter 1 lost a scene but also got a new one. Word count of Chapter 1 and Prologue (combined) decreased by about 500 words.


	2. Chapter 1: Eight Years Later

**Chapter 1: Eight Years Later**

Ver and a monferno crested over a mesa, the fifth one this day as the desert blessed its heat on them. They indulged in their element's glory, but the monferno felt like burning the whole slope and flat top each time some spiky, dry twig stabbed his feet. At least the dirt road was smooth enough for a wagon since the path worked its way up the incline like the threads on a screw, but he was astonished to not hear a complaint from the blaziken when he kicked a rock like it was a feather.

The monkey perked up his head at the top of the hill and saw water, farming, and then orange stone buildings in a depression.

It must have been dug out since it was a smoother bowl than any volcano. Its gentle slope contrasted with a canyon to the east. If it weren't for the brick bridges over the ravines, Ver would have to disobey the monferno's warning that he may vomit from jumping such a ravine.

They stopped and overlooked sandslashes and digletts digging out a tunnel on the bowl's north side, a vulpix waving at her customers at her potion shop, and a rhydon sunbathing outside while his mother polished gems at a window of one of the white stone houses that staggered in the village.

To the monferno, that vulpix and her roadside shopdisplaying bottles of every size and shape caught his attention just as much as the swollen lake and slow creek in the bowl. Ver, however, did not scan each pokémon head shaped house.

"Why so bored?" he asked Ver. "There's finally water, and a public bath, too."

"Good. You like it. I'll bid you farewell now." He focused his gaze off of the monkey and towards the slopes of even taller mesas before them.

"Sometimes I wonder if you have any memory yourself because you sound so simple," he said while Ver played with a smooth pebble in his claws.

"Shut up, Larkin, you're the one without memories. I prefer that you don't know me," the blaziken said, "See that tunnel? Go in there as I told you to. And do not walk heel first again, _idiot_."

Even while helping out with the local farmer on an oran berry harvest, Ver had told him to walk differently. He wasn't sure why that still irritated him. Indeed, Larkin hadn't walked wrongly since over two weeks ago.

"Despite your age, you're jokingly cute—no demonstration of fire or fighting abilities, no reputation. If you want to help me someday, then prove yourself, and . . ."

He stopped talking. On the taller, connected hill, a hoard of a hundred pokémon from water to dark to electric-types ran towards them. Too far away for Larkin to identify each of them, but Ver squinted. He growled, stirring up some unknown hate.

"Enemies?" Larkin said, noticing another hundred follow. Ver nodded, and looked at the town and then westward away from the group.

In a few seconds, Larkin recalled the newspapers and traveler reports of hoards of thieves. At first, he wanted to believe it was a exploration coming home, but Ver's clenched fists and the eastward direction of the groups brought forward worse stories of slave gatherings and whippings against the weak. Larkin stepped back, eyes widening and shuddering.

_No,_ he thought, stepping forward, _I have to warn them. They can't see them coming!_

"Get everyone out of this village now, _monkey_," Ver said, sprinting.

Before the dust rose to Larkin's nose, he, too, chased after him. He caught up to the blaziken and throttled down the road into the town powered by feelings hidden in his memory. Like seeing the deadline for an assignment count down to one minute remaining, his heart commanded his legs in order to pump like an explosion throwing a rock over a tree. Even his small shoulder bag swung as each step slapped the strings and coins up and down.

It was simple to run into the town. Impossible to tell who was what at his pace.

He yelled, "Enemies coming from west!" five times before Ver got inside town to split towards the west and echo. The Rhydon that once sunbathed now ripped the door off of his house and came out a second later with a brown sack.

The sounds of families scrambling out with relatives in their arms or by their paws could not override the panic Larkin felt. He didn't know if he would get out alive, and regret stabbed him for trying to be good. At least he didn't see the enemies yet from the streets.

Larkin yelled and ran around the village some uncounted number of times before he realized he was beat. Everyone else ran away with just a bag over their shoulders, and some carried relatives. Many more pokémon echoed Larkin and Ver and escaped westward. Larkin no long had their lightweightness while his breath heaved.

He looked west and saw a luxray jump over the top of the bowl's edge. Larkin looked around at flipped-over wooden tables, ruined lunches of apples, and opened doors. Nobody else was nearby.

_What do I do?_ He stumbled backwards and he breathed as if he inhaled a cloud of dust. Panic shot in his heart when the yellow eyes of the feline met his. It jumped towards him.

She landed on a watermelon stand, splattering the green and red chunks and breaking the foundation. Larkin didn't hear the wood snapping over his breath

"Oh, stay here, chimp," the luxray said in a feminine voice. She scanned around. Larkin remained frozen, startled that she got so far ahead so fast. "We go easy on those that give up. Hmm, now where's that fire chicken?" The luxray muttered to itself while Larkin felt abandoned. She sliced a watermelon in half and threw a piece to him.

_Huh? _Larkin thought, catching the fruit. She turned away and her eyes glowed with a golden aura. _Go easy on me?_ His breathing settled somewhat, but he still wanted to get away.

"Didn't you hear me." Something scooped him up and he found himself cradled and flying over the village's red, orange, and white rooftops. The sudden force from the jump punched him in the gut and forced the fruit out of his hands.

He smirked and looked behind Ver's arms at the luxray's growling face coming up empty.

"You almost got yourself captured." He sighed. They landed, and the same punch hit Larkin's stomach again. They jumped again, missing a thunderbolt that shoved through the buildings like a rail flying off a cliff straight through five more fruit stands. It thundered and expanded into a web of white before leaving only its deafening boom.

They landed at the top of the eastern ridge.

Larkin shouted, "She's keeping up!" His ears rang from the boom, and he could hardly hear himself.

"You better hold on," Ver said. He dropped him for a moment and freed his body from the backpack. Then he crunched him against his chest and sprinted.

They descended towards the eastern ravine with the speed of a tumbling log. Indeed, Larkin felt shocked that Ver could run this fast down such a steep slope. However, the upcoming jump seemed impossible. _Oh no,_ he thought, _is swimming even possible down there?_ However, near the edge, just when Larkin feared for a crazy escape in the rapids below, Ver jumped.

Larkin felt a bomb blast inside him. He wanted so badly to puke, but there hadn't been anything in him since last night's dinner of apple stew. Then he noticed mesas and dry grass spread far below him as he looked at the blue sky enveloping above him.

He looked down and oddly felt comfortable seeing the distant white foam of water and the sharp ridges known to crush every bone of a pokémon. Meanwhile, the luxray gazed towards the other side, oddly taking her focus off of them.

On the destination side, Larkin noticed a black mess standing between dried green and brown shrubs on the edge. Gravity pulled them down towards it, and Larkin noticed its shape matched Ver's, but it had black cloth layered on its legs, torso, and head.

"He's here?" Ver said, frustration hitting his voice as he noticed the object was directly in his landing path. Too late to change his velocity's direction, he turned his whole body around to have his back face whatever that was, and landed a second later on top of its forehead. Larkin's bag flung itself into tumbleweeds and against an orange-brown rock face.

This landing felt a lot softer to Larkin than the last one, mostly because Ver's belly cushioned him while the thing caught Ver and fell, cutting grass off the dust like a bad lawn blade. However, he ripped Ver off of Larkin and nearly crushed Larkin's paws with one of his to hold him up.

"Ow, what the?" Larkin said, cringing as the figure jumped to his feet, holding him like a doll. His smell burned Larkin's nose like a fire-type never could experience: gastric acid and rotting food and flesh. It muttered something under its breath, a male voice of an unseen level of annoyance.

As a trophy cape, he wore a poorly skinned zoroark's pelt that smelled of decay, but the neck collar of his coat smelled like someone vomited on him after he punched through their gut. Indeed, his paws and metal spike seemed like a lucario's, as did his feet, but they were clawed and rusty like a tarnished set of swords.

Larkin found identifying this pokémon or thing to be impossible once he noticed how he was taller than Ver, possessed a mightyena like tail, and had no facial features except for a muzzle tenting a cloth covering all of his face. His fur pushed from his clothes' openings as if he were a soiled brush.

The luxray retreated, picked up Ver's bag and sprinted away. _She's scared,_ Larkin thought, _Wait, I didn't think that. Whose voice was that?_

"Where have you been?" the monster said. He walked towards the cliff. "Indeed, Larkin." He placed Larkin's paws on the cliff edge and let go. Larkin instantly shot his hands up to grab the cliff edge as confusion and a sinking weight of fear dragged him closer to the roars of the water below.

The thing squatted and looked down at him. One claw tip brushed on the back of his hand.

"Eww, that's so gross." Larkin tried pulling up, feeling the claw-gunk stick where he marked. "What's your problem? Get me up!"

"Leave him alone, Blackcade," Ver said as Larkin recognized the hundred meters of rock wall below him. He had to get up, but what energy did he have left after that run? It was as if this thing slammed both fists into his lungs. His mind felt fuzzy with a strange mix of runner's high and panic.

"Shut your beak. If Larkin can't get up, then he dies." This conversation really irritated Larkin. He was a test subject for a pull up. Surely he could do that!

He tugged and tugged but could not get any bend in his elbows.

"Ha, see that? Come on, make a bet with me, Ver." His lungs burned: He hadn't breathed for a while. Thus he gasped and hugged close to the wall and panted. His muscles also stung with numbness for some time until the oxygen stopped him from losing his fingers' grip.

"You can't be serious. Just let me save him!"

"Ver, that's not a choice," he said.

"Ver, help me, damn it!" Ver did not reply. "Why?" Larkin's belly slapped the wall. "Why are you a murderer?"

"I'll cut your fingers off if you talk again." He shut up, and looked around, hurrying to find a solution. _When I get up there, I'm punching your nuts_.

Larkin noticed the stone wall his body touched. Smooth, but it could help. He placed his feet on the surface, only to slip and lose two of his fingers on the edge. That was when his heart shot as hard as it could, and his body tingled and shook. He got his two fingers back on. Again, he tried to gain footing, and he slipped. His vision completely narrowed to only his feet and his fingers as he breathed faster and faster. Blood flushed through his head and his ears drowned out all voices. He only heard a deep throbbing.

He either died or got up. No time to think about the two above him.

Less force on his feet, and everything else for the arms. He froze in place with his elbows nearing perpendicular. The unfamiliar movement forced its way through his shoulders and arms, cutting pain into his tendons. He screamed like a rock-type bench pressing a new record, and got his chin on the edge. Finally he threw his arms onto the surface and pulled.

"Well well," Blackcade said, likely the only thing he heard since being on the cliff. "That's enough for me." He turned and walked away.

Larkin rolled towards Ver. By the time he opened his eyes after panting and groaning, he could not find that stranger again with his fist. All Larkin found was a burning soreness that suddenly turned into elation and light weight. Then he blacked out just before yelling for joy. A snap of Blackcade's thumbs echoed and Larkin couldn't see or talk. His hearing flooded with that same blood throbbing through him.

The last words he heard were: "Oh, Arceus have mercy on you."

* * *

><p>"So you saw Ver," a dry voice said as a haxorus listened while leaning on the smooth sandstone wall next to the hut's archway entrance. "Well, Lieutenant Pascal, how did he outrun you?" <em>Ver?<em> The haxorus's interest peaked, but the General had told him to stay out. _My old friend, the fugitive was out there?_

"General Terrell, he jumped over the slope and ravine."

"And you didn't jump the ravine?"

"Blackcade showed," she said, and the dragon doorguard felt tempted to just bash through the purple curtain hanging in the entrance to ask Terrell what the hell Blackcade was doing showing up near this boring raid. Additionally, he wondered if that watchpokémon took the bribe and still ratted them out? He deserved to be eaten for alerting the village.

"Oh. Good work avoiding him then," he said, and he sighed and a pair of pichus trampled out of a hut in front of the doorguard, pulling out a five gallon barrel of wine. _Recruits_, the haxorus thought, sighing as he blanked out the sight to focus on how he would slam them if they challenged him to another pathetic battle because of how drunk they were with their damned victory spoils. Those pichus could barely hold the daggers that they holstered on their waists, but he was a living weapon. Not even a training squad of mightyenas could scratch him after he killed their daddy on enlistment day.

Terrell whispered something to the luxray. Even with his dragon hearing, he didn't understand what he said, but Pascal purred with satisfaction. Perhaps it was reassurance about their noble goals.

"Anyway, this mission succeeded halfway." He stomped around inside. "This town was all thieves and outlaws, but it's a shame we only captured a few. Make sure the recruits teach them how to be slaves."

No one but the doorguard and those inside the hut knew the General was here. Beyond the cloth door and around the royally giant purple robe Terrell wore, the field officers probably sat beside a map with red, blue, and green pins stuck into form sectors on the east, while a great green span to the west and a small strip of blue in the Northern Mountains were left unmapped. The dragon knew that map well, and looking at it would have been as boring as standing outside.

They attended to other matters like Ver's backpack, but there was nothing of interest until they debated plans for staying or retreating based on supply routes, risk, and the food in Meadow Bowl. It was such a shame that not every village could be full of exiled criminals trying to reform themselves. At least nobody important cared that they attacked Meadow Bowl.

"General," a male spoke up, "Shouldn't we attack Low Plains Town?" When he asked the question, the pichus stepped down onto the dirt road and rolled the barrel onto their heads. They cursed each other loudly and inspired annoyance in the haxorus. He remembered how these drafted pokémon either had to be dragged out of their bedding every morning with spears pointed at their hearts, or fenced away from captured slaves so they didn't main or kill pokémon in their sadistic desires.

Terrell replied, "You are out of line to suggest attacking that town right now. You're demoted. Greg!" The haxorus groaned as he expected to be commanded to send all the privates to bed. "Everyone's leaving except for you. And you!" Terrell said, directing his attention to that earlier voice. "If your brothers are drunk when we go back, I'll break your paws."

Greg smiled while the voice spoke up, "They aren't mine. Besides, you're out of line! My squad wants Low Plains Town today."

Terrell stomped inside the house and kicked a raichu out of the doorway like a fluffy soccer ball.

"Pascal, if anyone says I was here before we regroup, detain them in solitude for a week. Give these sealed orders to Greg and feed these fools well." Meanwhile, the raichu huffed and collared both pichus with his arms and hurried down the street to regroup westward.

_What an idiot_, Greg thought while he watched the raichu waddle away with the struggling pichus. Terrell had a lot of scum like murderers, criminals, and opportunists in his ranks, but they didn't aggregate enough. However, Terrell would reform the world when he could.

_Ha, __someday we'll easily get good troops_, Greg thought_._

"You ruin all the fun!"

"Yeah, we finally got something valuable and you kicked it away!" the voices of both pichus made the raichu frown with indifference and he would probably explode if they scratched him.

The raichu limped after nearly having his thigh broken, and Greg hoped that the pichus electrocuted the defenseless slaves they captured so that he could beat them for injuring workers.

The ground shook, and dust stormed out of the windows and door and Terrell vanished by using Dig. Pascal yelled at the others to get out and pack everything up for leaving. Everyone else flowed out from the door, but he only cared to notice Pascal the Luxray when she stumbled out the door because she used three legs to walk and one to hold the letter.

Greg shrugged as he received the letter from her matted and dusty paws. Then her yellow x-ray eyes aimmed behind Greg and behind the many handcrafted roofs in the neighborhood.

"Someone set the western grasslands on fire, Major."

"Oh that? I can't watch every recruit," Greg said, emphasizing his euphemism. "Just see who's missing tonight and have their families enslaved for treason. They knew better than to run." Indeed, Greg looked forward to seeing the execution of the families later on, but he opened the letter and grinned. He would be away from home for a while.

_Finally_, _some fun_. It would be like stealing dinner to him, and then he would return to his comrades to get answers about Blackcade and other concerns. As for Ver... Well, that was like eating dessert while at the store, and he would crush the cowards and expatriates, too.

* * *

><p>"Blackcade really did that?"<p>

"Yes," Ver said to the feraligatr.

"What! That thing just sits on roofs and litters newspapers. Hm, most curious that he took interest in this monferno," he said. After a night sleeping in the prairie, all three of them could still smell what he left on Larkin's wrists, and it probably proved who touched Larkin.

That smell lingered despite how his tail ignited a grass fire after waking up after Blackcade's spell and punching Ver. Still, he had to stop hating Ver. He learned that Ver couldn't do anything against a one-hit KO monster like Blackcade.

However, Ver taught him temperature control for two hours as they walked. _At least he let me sleep after that_, he thought.

"Yeah, what did I ever do to him?" Larkin asked.

"You might have stole from him, and then he wiped your memory," Ver said.

The feraligatr laughed and put his black leather-gloved claws on Ver's shoulder and said, "Wrong. He always kills thieves. Next time he passes through, I will question him. Onto a real matter... good job alerting that village, kid."

At least Ver congratulated Larkin that much earlier, too. As for Ver's negligence, this feraligatr expressed no surprise over Ver's handling of the situation. Larkin wanted to punch Ver again over it, but that would only be to relieve his anger at that thing.

"Thanks, sir, but I think I'm at least thirty years old," Larkin said, but Krauss smiled and nodded. This annoyed Larkin since he expected an apology, but he wouldn't insist on that to a blue gator whose jaw would lock onto and destroy his arm.

"Now, get lost, coward," Krauss said, waving at Ver while inspecting Larkin's shape for strength. _Coward?_ Larkin thought, _Then all his tales of rescues and adventures are nothing? What is it about him? What happened?_

Meanwhile, a pair of zangoose, a cacturne with a backpack of silver medals on his back, and many other pokémon wearing hats moistened with sweat and dust sat inside the bar to drink fresh water with tequila. "Ah yes, you are a perfect janitor."

"What? Ver, should I really stay with him?" Krauss closed his eyes and held a chuckle.

"I have to go now." Ver said, sighing. "Get with me when you're a security guard."

With that, Ver turned and walked away. Larkin reached his hand out to wave for him to come back, but it was no good. He jumped forward and ran, implying he wouldn't be followed. _Dang him, I didn't even get to say thanks for the free meals he made._

Some armaldos walked in front of him, and he vanished among the town filled with pokémon head-shaped houses covered with brick and white stone storefronts as their foundations. It was expected because Ver was only an escourt. Still, Larkin wondered if Ver had a blaziken head for a house somewhere, or if he preferred a simple frame of pure stone for a impenetrable box, which was what the bar and many buildings framed themselves as here.

Indeed, the bar, which smelled like vinegar in a half-effort to clean up vomit from last night's family gatherings, had been built with walls half a meter thick. Stone pillars throughout the inside supported the structure's two floors and attic as if this structure came out of a deep mineshaft.

All of the interior was padded with hardwood, colored like cigars that pokémon smoked inside. The saloon doors smelled like tobacco, overpowering even the roses that grew next to the wooden lounging chairs and tables on the porch.

Larkin guessed that the blue signs above the doors featuring images of feraligatr, swampert, marshstomp, and other water types indicated a family pride in bringing other families together for all three meals plus a siesta. With how many blue crystals stuck out from the sign, it must have lit the whole street at night. No doubt, the inside had similar crystals.

"Well, what do you offer, Krauss?" he said, wondering if Ver was right to release him here.

"Larkin, for you, room and board as a janitor with one silver a week. However, if you train, I'll pay you extra in silver! And if you become a bouncer, you'll get gold."

_Food for work? Sweet. But. . . _he thought, and said, "Wait, isn't that a bad idea as a fire-type?"

"Get off me, dirty cat!" One of the zangooses tumbled over a bar stool inside. Krauss shrugged and Krauss's brother, a marshstomp, tossed both of them out past the wooden deckboards in front of the rails. A feral ponyta tied to the railings outside of the bar squealed in surprise.

"Absolutely no fighting allowed inside," he said, leaving the two in a standoff on the street.

"Those brothers, always getting into fights. Anyway, welcome to Minter Tavern, family and farmhand bar," he said. he considered Larkin's question while he ignored the pokémon about to duel. "As for being a fire-type, you'll be fine with my brother here. Just don't use Fire Blast, okay?" he said, pointing towards the marshstomp. "He'll show you where the mop is." Krauss said, his previously joyful and easy tone going serious like the farmer was to Ver during Larkin's first week.

"Krauss! Where's the extra job board?" the marshstomp said, watching the two growl at each other.

"I don't have one."

"We have one hundred low-level job requests."

"Fine I'll do it, but go buy an early shipment of beer and berries! Also, get to work, Larkin." He rushed off and left Larkin stuck in his thoughts about what these jobs were. Too bad a broom fell into his hands and interrupted his thinking. He wasn't even allowed to watch the fight.

* * *

><p>"For Wruendra's sake! Why run?" a mightyena said, chasing a manetric. She hadn't paralyzed this wolf yet, but she felt annoyed that he caught up to her on the slopes of another mesa. "Please, stop! I don't want to fight you."<p>

"Greg killed your dad and you still follow orders?" she said, huffing and stopping to face him. Her head lowered and her fur sparked, sending pebbles and dust jolting from her paws. "I thought you would join me. We're so similar."

The mightyena panted, his black fur making each minute in the sun more tortuous. He didn't even try to ready himself to attack. "I am here so that my family isn't. And you know what he could do to my mother."

She chuckled and said, "Ah, so you haven't lost everything yet. Fine, go urinate on Greg instead."

He growled and spread his paws apart. He gazed at her in offense. "What? Of course I've lost everything. My life is a playtoy now."

"Fine. Then stay." She grumbled, knowing that going east would get her away.

He looked behind him. Over the hills, Meadow Bowl was there past a cloud of smoke that some recruit caused. They were alone on this slope of the hill, and they did not dare to near the groups of native pokémon that retreated east.

Something forced him to shut his eyes. She perked up her eyes and he turned forward and sniffled.

"I . . . I don't know what to do. If I go, her death will be my fault; if I stay, I'll have to clean my teeth of blood."

"Paco . . ." she said, considering if she should argue and tell him his mother might live, but she didn't exist in the same bind as him. She turned her eyes away from him and thought over his reactions to every protest. None of them worked out. She had to compromise. She had to accept what he would become. "Paco, I'll knock you out . . . the others will find you, and you'll be back with them. Is that good?"

He squinted his eyes at her as he rummaged through his mind every neck that he saw stepped on or bitten. She knew he wanted out as much as captured pokémon wanted to break their restraints. _How old was he? Why did he have to attack such faraway pokémon with me?_ Such thoughts burned her mind and she wondered if he mixed his desperation with rage at the ones who put him here.

He nodded.

"Farewell . . . Always resist. Promise me?" She said, her blue fur bristling with yellow sparks, turning her mane all yellow.

"I promise, Delilah" he said, shutting his eyes, lowering his defense.

* * *

><p>"That better not be my month's pay out there," a flareon said and Krauss walked out of the white-tiled, sweat and smoke-infused kitchen. "I'm sure he's a criminal, that weak little monkey, claiming memory loss and coming from Ver."<p>

Krauss waved at the flareon while he streamed fire into an oven's range, cooking five iron skillets while his sister, an eevee, flipped the pancakes, fried potatoes, and ground meat from atop her brother's head with a charred spatula.

Krauss's swampert cousin finished a nasty, muddy beer, and Krauss nodded at him. The swampert placed a troy ounce of gold onto the floor below his solo table before putting on a straw hat mud crusted from ditch digging. Larkin was the closest pokémon because he helped a mienshao waiter clean tables by taking wooden cups and plates to and from the kitchen.

_Damn, there's so many rescue teams lately_, Krauss thought, wiping glasses and putting them under the counter, _I'll need ten more employees_.

Larkin pushed the stool perfectly back to where the swampert had moved it. Despite it seeming clean, Larkin wiped with a cloth from his yellow janitor bag on his side. He checked under the table for misplaced mud, he swept crumbs from under the table with a small brush, and Krauss noticed how even the strings from the peanut shells would be picked up.

"Hm, such attention, good so far . . ." he mumbled to himself, knowing Larkin didn't realize he watched him.

Then Krauss cringed at the smell of a vileplume when he asked for poisonous spore infused vodka. A drink like that might make the poison-type go wild, so he would watch this vileplume like he did Larkin. Indeed, he noticed Larkin gaze at the coin for a moment, perhaps enchanted by how many shelves of sitrus berries it would buy.

It would be easy: Grab the coin and put it in the bag before a shopping spree.

Krauss grinned, expecting Larkin to take the bait. He slid the glass towards the vileplume on the counter in exchange for copper coins. However, without noticing anyone around him, Larkin merely stacked the muddy plate and mug and brought them to the kitchen from the tabletop.

Before getting to the door, Larkin said,"Hey, Krauss, there's a gold coin where that swampert was."

"Oh, my silly cousin must have done that. Thank you." Krauss won a bet against that flareon, and he noted his employee's morals. _Not too bad for a possible ex-criminal_, Krauss thought, _If only the others from Meadow Bowl were like him_.

As for the flareon, he barricaded his stance by saying, "Well, so what? I'll just keep my distance from him, but we'll get along all right as long as he's away from my room! And shower him with a water gun already, he stinks!"

* * *

><p>Dancing, folk songs about Tornadus and heroes, and laughter plagued his sleep last night. He only bothered to sleep in his closet sized room on the mats because the flareon yelled at him for being so overly alert.<p>

"Just relax a little," he said, which reminded Larkin of how a few nodded in half-approval once they spoke of Meadow Bowl. Like the flareon, they didn't show affection towards him.

He heard various large pokémon discuss in hushed tones about how some didn't get out, and they distanced themselves from Larkin. Indeed, he was merely a good Samaritan compared to those heroes. Larkin didn't even have a spear or scarf like them.

Krauss demanded that Larkin respect these rescue teams. He did, but their smiles in return seemed all too customary. Just a janitor, and didn't know where any of the locations were on that new job board.

Obviously, their big biceps made Larkin and them different. That charmeleon and ampharos posing with every one of their muscles flexed in some strange masculine ritual. All Larkin could do was gaze with envy. _I __should __be like them_, he thought and onlookers cheered for either side.

Putting aside the noises and chants took him at least an hour. Next morning began with handing water and salt that knocked out charmeleon who passed out with his head lying on vomit.

Also, one birthday girl ate a whole cake and blasted out a water gun of cake mix once she set her record eating time of one minute. It wasn't even digested.

Krauss offered to help clean up the worst messes, but Larkin insisted on doing the worst by himself. _Good grief_, he thought, _I don't mind it, __and __I hated that cold Water Gun shower._

Now he had some time off for lunch. He was in a spice and food shop when someone said, "Excuse me." Someone poked Larkin's shoulder to interrupt his thoughts. A pleasant interruption—fire-types shiver at the thought of water.

"Hm?" Larkin turned around, holding a jar of honey with his money bag slung over his should. A female infernape gazed at him with blue eyes unlike his own purple ones. She stared at him and looked at his feet. He noticed something leaking from her eyes. "Madam? You okay?" Larkin said, finding no explanation for why this female looked like that flareon after he sliced a dozen onions.

She grasped him into a hug.

Larkin almost let the jar smash onto the floor of the Chatot Shop. She squeezed him against her golden chest markings until the glass scratched. She held him out and placed him on the ground as if she considered him a kid.

It all made sense to the slightly irritated monferno once she said,"You look like my son," she said and a purugly strutted by with a bag of beeswax candles and herbs. Larkin turned his eyes away from hers and towards the layers of wooden shelves that somehow smelled and looked like cinnamon bark. Of course, Larkin processed her words to imply that he might have been her son, but, come on, how would he forget that? She felt cold, unfamiliar to him in that forced hug. "No, really, you're his double."

"Uh, really?" he said. He realized he wasn't actually her son a and a wave of insulting confusion crested over him. He didn't have time to hear all this from a brown-noser.

"Yes, from the eyes to the feet . . . it's all the same," she said. A tear flowed through her fur on her face to drop off onto his face and Larkin returned his attention to her. He blinked, hearing her bury a tear and wipe her face with her forearm. Larkin noticed her red, bloodshot eyes. She spoke again, "He's like you: Too proud to receive a hug, or to accept love easily."

"Flattering. Why mention this?" he said, inspecting the nearly solid mix of opaque goo in the jar while he wondered what he could spread it on at the bar. _Now she's going to tell me how great her son is_.

"He died." Larkin perked up his head to the same reddened eyes as her head flames receded almost completely as if she neared death to remember her son. "He was stronger than you, and he was a damn fine warrior. He died rescuing draftees from Terrell."

She lowered her head and wiped her eyes again. Larkin felt shocked to see the white fur at the top of her head. It wasn't supposed to be possible to see that on an infernape.

"Oh, don't cry," Larkin said, raising his hand to pat her forehead. "The fight goes on." _Wait, what's the fight?_ he thought.

She struggled to put on a straight face and said, "Look, you think I'm crazy, but could you just do me one favor?"

"Sure," he said. He couldn't turn her down.

"Say 'Adíos mama,' when I leave," she said, pressing her face on Larkin's vision. She sighed and said, "I never said goodbye to him before his final mission."

"Really?"

"Look, I need this," she said, wiping a tear with her finger. "Please, just do it."

Once Larkin agreed, her head flame ignited brighter than before, but it was still low. Larkin took his jar to the chatot cashier next to the hexagon like display windows at the front, and he silently processed how much pity he held for her. At the same time, he felt dishonest when the bird nodded at the two of them. She took her spot at the antique wooden door and raised her right hand up slowly. She reenacted what she failed to do for her deceased child and focused on Larkin. He raised his hand, too, with hesitation, wondering if this would work

"Adios, son," she said, waving her hands to an imagined son as he galloped away to the sunset.

"Adios. . . mama," he said, feeling off for saying that. This whole situation stirred insult and pity in him as he pondered where his family was. After all, Krauss never heard of anyone named Larkin before.

"Adios, love," she said, she nodded, and her head flame flared up as if closure soothed her regrets.

"Adios, mama," he said, finally seeing her turn and walk out the store to mingle into the crowd of walkers.

He turned to the cashier to pay for the jar. The chatot seemed lost in a daydream about his childhood until Larkin awoke him and banged the jar's glass against the short wooden tabletop. He counted something on his wings, causing confusion in Larkin. _That was only one item_, he thought, _or perhaps he was remembering the price of it?_

"All right, forty-one silver."

"Whoa, whoa, forty? It's one jar," he said, raising his hands to wave at the bird and point at the price in the back of the store. He thought, _could he really forget the prices on his small selection of honey and spices and herbs in this wooden heap?_

"Your mother took enough spices to fill a restaurant. I have perfect memory and sight, now pay up," he said, his voice turning sour.

"She's not my mother!"

"Don't pull that, monkey. You think I'm deaf? I heard you, so pay up," he said. Larkin wanted to slap at the bird, but he remembered a small detail—she had a bag of some color with her.

How could she do this to him? All of his earnings from a month of work on a farm running down the rows of oran berries . . . all gone with no solution in mind. He wasn't allowed to keep the jar either since his forty-first silver coin wasn't in the bag.

To avoid blast burning the place with his tail, he had to direct all that anger into his left fist. If he grabbed any silver and melted the coin, he would have been a thief.

After paying, he walked outside, and grabbed his empty bag with his left hand. It exploded in fire and sent everyone scurrying away while they cursed him for being a jerk. Especially that leafeon that would have blasted Larkin with a solar beam.

"What's your problem?" he said, scorning him before the eeveelution walked away with a dismissive shake of his head. He didn't care about them while he repeated everything that infernape told him in his mind. All the lies. The scams. All he had left were tears and rage for not only seeing a false portrait of his family, but a criminal that cheated him.

_That's it! I'm going to find a sandpit and melt it_, he thought after his count to ten failed. She was gone, and that was all he could do.

* * *

><p>"It's five AM, what do <em>you<em> want?" Larkin asked the noctowl.

"I'm your boss's alarm clock. Also, here's a message," she said, slipping a note through the opening in the window, "Read it with your tail." She flew to the side and pecked on the flareon's window like she did to Larkin's.

"Workouts."

"Ugh, no!" he yelled, "I don't want the bonus."

"See you in two hours then." Not even the curses he later hurled at her affected the owl.

Larkin shrugged and unwrapped the note. It read, _I don't know what stressed you out yesterday, but I'm in the basement if you want to talk and work out. __Also, sorry about waking you up, so I'm happy to surprise with five silver coins! Still, it's a shame that not many teams tipped you._

Still, he felt that Krauss wouldn't believe him about the infernape. Despite how his joints creaked by waking up, he wanted to go down there and at least see what Krauss wanted. Seven free silver coins motivated curiosity to form.

So he left, locked his door, and strolled through the bar. He expected to see passed out pokémon, but all he saw was the same as a boring lunch. Some dark-types like umbreon showed up, but everyone else was there as if the dim green and blue crystal lights indicated it was daytime. Before the night shift asked him to help, he walked down to the basement.

"Good to see you," he said. Larkin looked over and Krauss smirked at him in the orange lit basement. Lanterns provided light similar to Larkin's tail down here, and the feraligatr's scales looked like an orange. "Come here. You're welcome to tell me what angered you."

_Oh snap, I can't get out of this_, he thought, holding his hands together and walking on the cold stone floor. Krauss curled a dumbbell and Larkin held his breath, thinking about how to explain it without seeming like a sucker. _But maybe I am one._ . .

"I, uh, got scammed. Lost my money," he said, hoping that would satisfy him.

"You want to talk about it?" Larkin stayed quiet, but he talked again, "I hear all sorts of stories, like a weak charizard that died in the company's lobby. Boy, that janitor talked a lot with me about that and how he let the water tank rust. Of course, I hear a lot of tales as a bartender."

"Nah, it was more mundane for me. Someone said I was her son's double." Krauss clenched the dumbbell and growled, sending Larkin stumbling back.

"What's the rest of the story?" Larkin told him while tapping his fingers together. He never saw him angry before, and those jaws could crush his head. "How dare she fake being a mother! When you have kids, you'll know how low that is."

"Yes, y-yes indeed," he said, comforted by how he hated that infernape and not him. "But, I don't want to think about her again, let's move on."

"As you wish," he said, sighing with disappointment, "As part of the Water Fraternity, how about I start you out with lifts." Most of the room contained crates of wine or liquor, but iron and lead weights in this section awaited Larkin's attention. Krauss looked down on him, likely expecting Larkin to talk out his problem, but that method just felt wrong for him to take. It was the same "are you nuts" look that Ver gave him for sprinting on the farm.

If it was anything like how good running felt, then his body and mind may love weights, too. That's all he needed to feel better.

"I've only run before."

"Okay. Go back to bed. I guess you won't be like those teams or get extras." Blackcade's cliff hanging exercise shot through his mind and forced his hands to clench.

"No, I want strength!"

"Great! I finally have an early workout buddy."

"Yeah, but why are you and others up so early?" he asked, holding down a yawn in the grape scented air.

"Many pokémon sleep in two phases, but some, like me, start early and sleep early." He chuckled at him and patted his head. "You're welcome to have a drink after your first sleep, you know."

"Yeah, but I meant why train? Isn't it to attack who invaded Meadow Bowl?"

"No."

"What?"

Krauss smiled and closed his eyes, shyly rubbing the back of his neck. "I lift these lead dumbbells so that I unleash wrath onto rowdy customers. I suppose the Western bastards count as rowdy, but my job is defense."

"But, are you sure we're safe?"

He stepped forward, opening his eyes and throwing his clenched fist in the air. "This town is where Blackcade bowed down, and _this _town survived the grudges of some legendaries."

"What? How?" Larkin asked. Blackcade, that jerk, bowing? That was outragous, and probably a made-up story in Krauss's prideful dialogue.

"Enough," he said, frowning at him and crossing his arms. "You don't know? Well, you should read history sometime. Now start push-ups." The annoyance in his voice added to Larkin's interest._ Fine_, he thought,_ I'll find out on my own later_.

This routine felt weird to him, but he nodded. Before starting push-ups, he wondered why he felt like he didn't want his own history or an explaination for why everyone's customs seemed odd. Still, life went well without Blackcade to hint at a connection, and he didn't think much of his family after that infernape soiled such thoughts. It was best to just shut up and push up. And it felt great to reach exhaustion with twenty push-ups.

"Damn, monkey, you have a long way to go."

* * *

><p>As soon as he walked in, every patron left.<p>

The kecleons, the bastiodon, even a dozen floatzel family members celebrating another daughter's birthday vanished with their noses plugged and held high. A killjoy like him always made even a lickilicky hide his tongue in his mouth and look for the exit. Fifty customers for Krauss—gone. Many muttered curses at the terrible smell, and worried that he would flip the tables everywhere if he drank anything.

Larkin heard and smelled this commotion even from the second floor while carrying a potato sack.

"I thought I banned you," Krauss said, likely cringing from the smell, "I remembered to ask you this: why does Larkin interest you?"

From the stairs, Larkin saw him wagging his paw at Krauss.

"Quiet, gator," he said, looking at the empty tapa plates and half full glasses scattered about the round tables. "No apologies for the smell, either. Ah, yes, Larkin!" It wasn't like Larkin could ever escape him. Blackcade chuckled

Larkin's eyes flashed open and he dropped the bag as he stood up to face Blackcade. He considered standing up to him. However, Larkin thought it best to breath and avoid overheating. After all, burning the cherry floorboards and the cedar pillars would really hurt his meager pay.

Blackcade took small potatoes from a tapa plate and smelled the pepper sauce on it. After waiting and feeling a growing annoyance with him, Larkin started to speak, but Krauss said,"I would much prefer if you smelled like that sauce."

"Mojo sauce? Canarian wrinkly potatoes were my favorite to eat before slaughtering towns long ago. Now I'm only allowed to remember those days."

Larkin blinked, but then realized Blackcade probably wanted to show off, not kill. He was much more vulnerable earlier, but the fears bothered him like cockroaches on his feet.

"What brings you back to ruin my peaceful work lfe?" Larkin asked.

Blackcade threw the potatoes between the folds of his headcloth. No mouth or face was seen, but he moved the food inside with his paws before taking it in.

"Here," he said, taking a yellow book from his coat. It read _Elementary Analysis of Real Numbers_. He walked over to Larkin and slapped the book on the nearest table. He commanded the potatoes off of Larkin's back with a thought, causing the bag to tumble onto the stairs.

He sat down and put his paws in his lap, waiting for Larkin to speak up as if it were obvious why he should speak. Larkin's face gazed at him with his sharp teeth out, but Larkin knew this display only would let Blackcade know his feelings while not resolving anything.

"It seems you don't care anymore. Read page seven, kid."

Larkin grabbed the book. He thought of burning it, but Blackcade tapped a red sword sheath on his waist. Opening it to page seven, Larkin read obvious properties of real numbers like 0 1, but then he saw writing around that property. Scribbles, random lines mixed in with the English as if Blackcade made up his own language to express frustration that he could not proceed in the book.

"Yes, you changed a lot of things for me. Hence why that book gathered dust for about ten years."

Krauss scratched his head, and tapped his claws on the bar counter, straining himself to listen.

Meanwhile, the flareon and his sibling in the kitchen loudly complained with the waiters as the smell lingered through them. Thankfully, an idea came to him from the blackness of his memory that may get him out.

"But it's obvious," Larkin said.

"Oh, please, you'll someday understand why this is important," he said, back flipping and throwing the chair to the floor. He landed with his back to Larkin and walked towards the exit while the chair bounced and landed right side up.

"No, no, I mean, we know zero's lesser than or equal to A squared is true, but also that 1 times 1 is one squared. Moreover," Blackcade stopped. He clenched his paws and Larkin continued. "If A times B equals zero, and either A or B or both equal zero. However, 1 and 1 are not zero, so 1 is not equal to zero and hence 1 is greater than zero. . ." Blackcade turned around, and Larkin smirked as the figure's shoulders dropped. "Oh, I see. I did what you couldn't."

_What the heck did I just do?_ Larkin thought.

"Ah ha!" Krauss started laughing, and Blackcade growled. Larkin laughed as well, feeling confident that if Krauss could laugh without being punched, then so could he. When that softened to a pair of smiles, they saw Blackcade with his head down and paws unclenched. The stance reminded Larkin of when Ver was shamed by Krauss, and some stroke of pride hit both of them. Some pokémon standing outside of the bar gossiped among themselves in surprise.

"Something's not right," Blackcade said, walking towards the exit. "Oh, and by the way, Ver bet that you would die. Let's do that wager again because he'll surely lose, and I love his face when he loses. . ." he trailed off on that sentence, realizing what just happened to him. He clenched one paw and pointed the other at him while he walked away. "Until next time, monkey."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes<strong>

Just wanted to thank dragoonvulpi and lucariodarkness745 for many hours of beta reading. Their assistance eased a lot of things in this story.


	3. Chapter 2: Begin the Holy Week

**Chapter 2: Begin the Holy Week**

After Blackcade parted the swinging wooden doors, Larkin picked up the potatoes.

"Why doesn't everyone do that?"

Krauss glared at Larkin as if thinking about throwing him on the ground like a violent drunk. "Every early attempt at civilization failed because he wrecked each try _before_ the humans came. Now he's bone-breaking annoyance. So there! That's why." Larkin nodded, backing away from the offense in Krauss's voice. It seemed that fear came because Krauss's strength would be crushed like peanuts on the bar floor by the monster.

_Humans? _Larkin thought_, Maybe I'll taunt Blackcade about them_.

The family of floatzels returned first and one wearing a pink scarf of the most feminine flower surprised Larkin when _he_ spoke to Krauss, "I ain't never seen Blackcade like that. How'd you do it, gator?" Everyone else in the family returned to their tables to leave that male at the bar counter. To Larkin's confusion, all of them wore pink scarves while they drank black beer.

"Oh, not I, it was Larkin, my janitor," he said, pointing at him.

"Really?" he said, clenching a beer mug and examining the monferno. "That scrawny pokemon did it? How?"

As trained to, he addressed him, "Why, sir, I did something out of this book that he couldn't do." He showed the yellow book and the water-type chuckled.

"Hm, I need to learn me some 'calculus' to humiliate him. He almost got my sister killed because. . ." Krauss interrupted him with an "ahem," and the floatzel did not finish the sentence. _He stopped him?_ he thought, _Was it worse than the janitor suicide?_

Sensing a moment to change subjects and get back to meeting the floatzel, Larkin said, "I'm Larkin Pollaro. I helped alert Meadow Bowl."

"And I'm Toney Ferreira," he said, slapping his paw on the counter. "And you know what, monkey, I think my daughter would like you. . . with fake muscles!" That low shot to Larkin insulted his new daily efforts of three hours per day of sit-ups, assisted pull ups, and squatting a barbell.

To be fair, Toney's neck busted his fur out as if he could slam a crate across town with one headbutt. _He doesn't wear a rescue badge, so how is he that strong?_

"Well, Mr. Fereira," Larkin said, failing to say the double 'r' correctly. Toney slammed the counter, but let Larkin continue despite unnerving him. "How about I ask her what she thinks?" Toney scowled at him and jumped off the barstool. He stood like that luxray at Meadow Bowl did, and Larkin blinked, not sure to believe what he was seeing.

"You mispronounce my name, but think you're good enough to see her?" His life-vest like yellow tubing pumped full of water. Larkin stood there, shuddering in confusion and fear. Everyone else in the bar stopped to peek their heads at them while pretending to drink their ale. "Bah! Dueling you would kill you, so I leave you in disgrace." He raised his head, relaxing his chest and raising a chin at Larkin.

Other patrons came into the bar and cheered him on with "ohh!" and "that's a real man right there, that Ferreira."

_Kill me? What__!_ he thought, knowing it was suicide to fight back. His emotions sank into his stomach, and he wanted to throw up onto the floatzel. Hell, he would smash the potatoes on him, too.

But he could barely carry this bag.

So he walked away from Toney, going to kitchen and dropping off the potatoes. He worked beside a vaporeon, jolteon, and flareon that night to get them every cooking supply desired. However, when Ferreira spilled a bowl of peanuts, the flareon stepped out of the kitchen to clean it. He disregarded Larkin's protest.

"You again?"

"Shut up, sir." Still, Larkin cleaned everything that wasn't near that floatzel, but the flareon didn't speak to him even after a thank-you.

When Larkin rested on his mat to fall asleep with that book, Krauss knocked on the door. _What could he want_, Larkin thought, remembering Krauss's smile to Toney after that scene. He just wanted to dump all that rejection and rudeness into another leg-burning workout tomorrow morning.

"Not coming in, but I want to say something before the night shift comes."

"Fine, say it."

"Before you find females, I suggest learning the culture to avoid insulting . . . I almost collared and restrained him to avoid a fight."

"Well, gee, I tried to be polite."

"Hey, feel up. Backing down was the right choice."

"Hmph, I would have fought if I could win."

"And that would be fine! Except for my bar's damages," he said, and Larkin groaned inside his walk-in closet sized room. All he stored were silver coins and that math book while the wood around him remained unpolished and often not sanded. "You went from twenty push-ups on your knees to two-hundred weighted push-ups. You can duel Ferreira for honor later, I'm sure! Sr rest up."

_Oh yes, someday I'll duel him_, he thought and wondered what dueling for honor meant.

The heavy footsteps of Krauss pounded away.

Larkin pondered and believed that that hothead floatzel should have notified him of an offense instead of threatening. Even a machamp on a rescue team treated him better than Ferreira did, and so did the many regulars who he had yet to learn the names of.

_I should also learn why the West attacks. Far as I've heard, they're not much different from that floatzel_, but he fell asleep with sweat drying on his fur.

* * *

><p>One month ago.<p>

"How long ago did you wake him?" Ver said, rubbing one of his eyes and Toby the Aggron greeted him for breakfast.

"Hour before sunrise," he said, struggling with thin newspaper in his bulky claws. Ver sighed and walked over to turn the page. "Good thing I read this at _lunch_time." Ver, noticing the comment, turned his head away and shrugged. "But . . . I think I'll read in the morning soon enough."

_Oh, that monkey..._ Ver thought, jealousy hit him as he wondered how many baskets of berries Larkin has gathered. _He's really sucking up to him, is he about to turn the pages for him?_

Toby aimed his eyes at Ver and smirked. "Ver, I'm serious, but not for the reason you may think."

"Oh?" Ver said, titling his head.

"Yeah, I know a delphox maiden. I figure she can clean my polished walls and stone floors better. Plus, she can flip these sheets much easier than me. Hopefully I'll enchant my stone house into a suitable pad for a mate."

_Oh, great, now I'll have to listen to that at night._

"Enough." Ver sighed, gazing across the red granite table that held five fresh watermelons. Smooth as glass, and the extinguished cysta; firestone torches on the wall reminded him he worked to live and eat here. "Are you kicking him out?" Ver asked, spreading out his arms to confront him. His anger flared while he suppressed himself to avoid offending his friend.

"No. Today is the last day here for both of you."

"Both of us? Why me and him?" Ver asked, pointing his claw out the window towards the field of blue and green berry bushes where Larkin likely ran through. "What trespasser can just get away with claiming memory loss and become an employee? What, you want me to stick with that freak?"

Toby nodded and looked out the round window. Four square kilometers of berries, and many more acres of questionable substances near the smokehouse for the travelers.

He picked up the newspaper and said, "I remember when you tried eating with your wings as a torchic. And when you puked because you didn't store pebbles—I laughed. Larkin reminds me of you. . . he runs wrongly and he squats without his heels touching the ground. Have you cared enough to see his running speed improvement, too? It was twelve minutes a mile last week; today, I saw him run that in seven minutes."

"That's impossible." Ver chuckled until he saw Toby's frown directed at him. "No. You don't mean?"

Toby nodded and he took a watermelon slice into his mouth. While chewing, he waited for Ver to speak up and accept the connection. However, accepting such an absurd power increase made Ver put his claws on his head. He shook his head. _Impossible_, he thought, _Is Toby just mocking me? That monkey's __just__ a janitor and berry picker!_

"Ver, I'm doing this for you, as a friend," Toby said, perhaps realizing that he may have damaged their bond. He adopted him much like he shouldn't have adopted Larkin. Young adult pokémon in distress were welcomed to gain shelter in exchange for modest work, but Toby wanted to admire Ver instead of pity him. Ver knew that, but he trembled and feared what Toby wanted. "You want pride? Well, those five hundred refugees going west to east need your help more than I need yours. Anyway, I have a business to return to. You two should do something with your powers," Toby said, stamping his claws on the paper before getting up and walking towards his door. "I'll be back at dinner to talk further. You better plan."

As much as he would like to get some pride from fighting again, he knew the reality was different. "But no guild's going to take us two! And who's going to believe—"

"Then drop him off at Meadow Bowl Guild and become a nomad," he said and he raised a claw right when Ver opened his mouth to speak. "By the way, I was going to kick you out even if Larkin didn't show up. . . You act like you deserve to be here just because you put in your hours of work—" Toby said, lowering his head and sighing, "—Why Ver? You can be so great. I've seen you. . . But I know it'd be crazy to keep you here because doing so has only made you worse off."

"And what about all my stuff?"

"Pay me one gold coin in three months, or it's going out." _Oh, thank goodness, three months is perfect. Still, I have to earn it with that monkey nearby_.

Ver's mouth stayed open while he pondered his words. He wanted to curse him for forcing him to find a new bed and way to gather food. Toby slammed the door. _What an inconvenience_, he thought_._ He scanned the paper and snuffed it from his mind. _ Fine, I'll help him out since Toby's so sure about this... My life isn't going to go far like his will though_.

* * *

><p>"What? rest day?" Larkin said, awakening to see late morning sunlight and Krauss's large jaws leaning into his room.<p>

"Yeah, the pokémon of Low Plains recognize this day because six hundred years ago Blackcade saved the world."

"What! Is this a prank?"

"Nope. That's why the noctowl left you alone," Krauss said, pausing when Larkin's face puffed up in frustration. "Calm down, we're not celebrating him. It's for fun, family, and fruition. The Church of the Life Spirit rents out the bar for their use to reflect on their lives every year over all the alcohol and tobacco they want to buy."

"Really? I haven't heard a thing from downstairs."

"Yeah, as for Blackcade," Krauss said, tapping his pointy teeth. "Don't even mention him today," he said, winking at Larkin before wishing him a good morning to do whatever. "My family wants me over. You know where the water and food is, so rest up."

"Uh, fine."

"But first, a shower for you all the other employees. Not required for the vacation, but you smell."

"Oh, fine."

Later, he walked to the stairs and realized something. He didn't know if he could make it down each of the wooden steps due to all the squats he did yesterday. Walking on the flat floor had enough problems since his legs shook and he sometimes braced himself up by putting his hand on a wall.

The stairs? Thank goodness for the bleached white pole of wood on the wall because he grabbed that railing with both hands and eventually got used to the weakness on each step. His legs felt like his throat did when he accidentally drank vinegar instead of water. At least, he thought it was vinegar.

Reaching the final step, he looked up to see a chandelier of green paper hanging from the ceiling as if the old oak sprouted a new tree. Below it, a grumpig's telekinesis tied more green bands onto it.

"Oh welcome," a manectric said, nudging Larkin's shoulder. Displeased at the soreness that nose bump incurred, Larkin put out a false smile.

"What's with the bands? Why are the seats and tables stacked against the wall?" This was so out of order for him.

"Every pokémon writes a poem or prose about a life issue of this year. Sometimes it's success, other times. . . not so much." She pointed her muzzle at a set of cacturnes and cacneas crowding the grumpig. Some looked like monks with all the bands draped on them, and one tripped on his own lace of paper.

Larkin and the manectric's eyes darted at his falling head, but they were too far away to help. "Whoa, buddy," Ferreira's said, catching him. The cacturne excused him and stood back up from the orange and pale furred arms. The line proceeded forward, and he and Larkin exchanged glances.

"Strange, he's separate from his family," she said, then she brushed one of her paws on her blue face to hide her displeasure and said, "Oh, tomorrow morning and every morning for the next week may be a big mess," she said, and Larkin sighed, not expecting her to say, "So could you join in the mess?"

"Wait what?"

"Yeah," she said, almost barking at him. "You look tired!"

"I don't even understand this celebration, so what would I do?" he said, and she opened her mouth in surprise, then closed it and smirked, leaning towards his face. He looked at her as he realized that she thought he joked.

"Holy Spirit of Life, you must have been isolated in the forest with your lonely clan. It's simple, we pay homage to the Spirit I mentioned," she said, turning back towards the crowd, then she patted Larkin's back with her sharp, blue tail in order to make him follow.

"So it's acknowledgment that you're all vassals of the Spirit of Life?"

She laughed as he followed and kicked a peanut shell from the floor. However, it sounded like she hid a sob in her voice. "Well, she's the best master ever then. But, seriously, it's just respect. Even in the worst times, it was that Spirit that comforted us."

"Oh, it's the runt," Toney Ferreira said from behind Larkin, then he jumped over their heads and landed in front of them to raise a chin. "Renegade Delilah, this pokémon is Larkin, and I think you shouldn't court him." _Renegade?_ thought Larkin, _Courting!? How can those two words fit together?_

"Ferreira," she said, growling at the unexpected weight he dropped on them, "Don't bring that up." She composed herself and regulated her smile to match the ones next door where cubones and a rhydon bought fresh and spicy meat filled and lime marinated tamales from Jay the Jynx.

"Watch your belongings around Larkin."

She closed her eyes in irritation. "I know what he did. Can't I have a nice talk without you?"

"Fine, _splitaway_," he said, folding his pink scarf and walking out, "You belong in the West, and I am sickened to see you even talking and admiring the monkey from Meadow Bowl."

"Wanna feel a million volts?"

"Oh, so threatening." He laughed.

His head smashed into a black kneecap from the corner of the doorway. Larkin and her started laughing. The black pants kicked him aside and a blood red sarape strolled in. Their joy froze. Blackcade held his paws on his belly and disregarded the blindsighted floatzel that cursed him.

"Out of my way—oh, oh. . ." he said, opening his eyes and rubbing his forehead. Before the figure moved again, Toney jumped out the door and Blackcade focused on the chandelier while bringing one paw up to his wrapped chin to scratch it in wonderment.

Everyone felt like hot pepper smoke blasted into the room when they saw him, but they grunted and continued onward with their business. His presence mocked the Spirit, but Larkin didn't smell him this time.

"Larkin, the book," he said, still not facing him.

"I was just talking," he said, wondering what verb he intended with that sentence. "You want it back?" Delilah stepped away from Larkin, possibly sensing a fight.

"No. You will teach me everything in that book," he said, taking his other hand to take a book sized bag from the back of his sarape and display it to him, "I got my supplies."

"Excuse me!" Larkin said, stepping his right foot forward and pumping his fist up. "I've worked all week and trained until stairs required crawling, and you want me to tutor you now?"

"Don't throw a tantrum. But yeah, mmh, so much delicious food, dancing, and even the building of a fancy stone sculpture right now. I could even transform into that manectric's mate and give her a ride better than her dead husband."

"You, you. . ." she said, closing her eyes and lowering her head to quiver, "Insensitive bastard! Toying with my love! No one would mate with you even if you transformed in a milotic!" She pounced and Larkin staggered backwards in surprise. Her jaws wrapped on his throat, sparking with blue electricity. However, Blackcade didn't flinch; in fact, he walked towards Larkin and said:

"It's not a bad deal, Larkin, I get three hours with you for tutoring whenever I want. I need it."

She growled and continued to pour her energy into her crunching bite.

Larkin said, "I sense that I can't refuse," Blackcade nodded, causing her to tumble up and down like a long beard. "But I want compensation, and maybe seeing some compassion from you towards others."

He grabbed her throat, ceasing her breathing for a moment, and tossed her out the door. The grumpig ran after her, as did everyone else in the room.

Blackcade neared Larkin and squatted down to him. He collared Larkin's arm with the same paw that he used to throw out Delilah, and the older, evolved pokémon around them gasped at what they saw. To Larkin, the paw caressed his arm like a hot steamroller with each tendon screaming in pain from his moving grip. He cringed, but didn't moan.

However, his paws weren't warm. Unlike Delilah, his fur sucked heat. On the plus side, he smelled like red peppers as if he bathed in them. He also noticed that her bite did nothing to his scarf or head wrapping—not even a shift in where the cloth rested.

He released him and stood up. "Oh, sorry." Larkin blinked, noticing that he said sorry. "That habit doesn't apply today. Fine. What the fuck do you want? Gold, books, mind control of a pokémon? Just joking on the last one."

"Bring justice to the killer of Delilah's mate. You hurt her; you deserve to help her."

Silence, even the crowd leaned in through windows to listen to his answer. Delilah said "yeah!" but her groans muffled her, and many pokémon carried her off despite her vocal protest to stay and watch.

"I would love to, but I won't," he said, nudging the monferno's forehead with a paw, "Bargain better"

_Well, maybe I should ask about my past_, he thought and Blackcade said, "No."

Shocking! Larkin blinked and searched for any signs of mind-reading, but he felt normal. Not a headache. Not even a voice in his head. Yet he was in there. Thus Larkin thought of more ideas, but the same "no" kept resounding with more and more annoyance until he finally said, "I'll interject with my idea."

"And what is that?" Larkin said, wishing that he had a seat. Any more standing while facing up at this tall beast and he might fall backwards.

"Special protein supplement and another book for today's session. Deal, monkey?"

"What a horrible deal for spending three hours with you."

"Stop being so righteous," he said, causing Larkin to expand his eyelids as he wondered if that was a compliment. "You're just a monferno claiming memory loss which everyone suspects is actually a criminal hiding his true identity. Ha, well, even after Meadow Bowl, you're nothing. If you quit your job you'll be lucky to be a farmhand with your lack of history and the likely rumor that some monferno somewhere burned a field of wheat."

_Oh_, Larkin thought,_ if he can transform, then he could make that happen_. Still, he persisted as a dying flame would, "You're telling me how to live? You really are messed up."

"Everyone does, like to me: Krauss has a recipe called 'Blackcade' which is the most disgusting shot ever. Do I care? No. Take what you can, kid."

Larkin sighed, noticing that a plusle and minun in a window to his left were eyeing him with suspicion.

An opportunity to relax with the hot sun overhead and the endless lines of street venders of food and drinks went to waste. Larkin wanted to get this math over with, so he agreed to Blackcade's terms as if approaching the gallows.

"To your room then," Blackcade said, walking to the stairs while Larkin followed behind the red blanket he wore as a coat on his coat. Out of habit, Larkin picked up an old, small potato form the floor and threw it away in a bin next to the stairs.

When he reached that first step, Larkin remembered his leg weakness earlier going down the stairs. Going up? He couldn't even imagine crawling after the strain from standing near him.

"Get up here."

"I really can't," Larkin said, looking at the black cloth wrapped head upstairs. He hurried down the steps and grabbed Larkin's shoulder.

"What a sissy," he said and pokémon returned to the bar's floor. They would put bands onto the chandelier until it landed on the floor, but they would never go upstairs to the guest and employee rooms. Larkin struggled against Blackcade at first, but he lifted him up regardless of how his movements should have shifted any holder's balance. "Done yet?" he said, and Larkin nodded, not wanting to dislocate his shoulder.

He wondered why the subject interested him so much, but Blackcade didn't answer his thoughts.

* * *

><p>"Talk," Terrell said and Pascal scanned through the door. He cracked his shoulders and threw papers against the wall.<p>

"The senators demanded your presence, but I bothered them instead," Pascal said, her voice raspy from yelling at a room of incompetents who presumed to know power because they got elected. Terrell asked why this concerned him, and she answered, "They demand getting rid of the Eastern Problem."

"Good, they're crazy. Whose army's gonna do it?"

"Yours."

"Sure we will. Make that raichu a low general with his choice of officers, and if Ver joins us again, stick him next to that loser," he said, pushing some scrolls and books around in his office. Pascal stood on the cold stone floor of the torch lit hallway. Terrell laughed and said, "Ah, Ver, without his leave we would have destroyed ourselves."

"What's so funny in there?"

Pascal focused on something he held in his stony claws. She read a report from a committee about potential resources to be gained from taking over one town.

The paper had been stained by tea and olive oil coated rock dust from Terrell's garbage bin. Such rubbish could only be written by those unaware of the low skilled class that could not compete with slave labor's free wages. They never listened to her about how conquest is for losers, either. After all, the West never controlled the East because such attempts always failed no matter what advantage they had.

She smirked. That raichu would walk right into it, leaving her and the elites to more important matters.

"I love it," she said, remembering how she was bowed to by at least five random strangers on the street today. She intended to keep things that way.

"They want to exercise power, then so be it," he said as a drop of water fell from the ceiling onto her. "Tell them to eat quicklime, they'll feel like fire types until their lungs explode." _Of course_, Pascal thought, _Another rebellion, how expected_. "Now go grab some wine and at least ten other heroes. We need to make things better."

* * *

><p>At the three hour mark, Blackcade said, "All right, Prof. Professor, what's the homework?" He sat side by side with Larkin in the same cross legged position the entire time. No axiom went without a lecture, and no basic field property went without another soul-draining lecture and emptying chalk onto a chalkboard (which Blackcade teleported away to buy with two gold coins since there was no chalk or chalkboard). The fact that he could throw money like that irritated him, but Larkin didn't dare disapprove of the cold figure beside him.<p>

Demanding written proofs of every small detail also angered him, and he wondered if he could get away with stealing a few coins from his enslaver. Blackcade clenched his pencil and hustled through each obvious property of real numbers, and he would almost snap the pencil when Larkin thought of stealing from him.

Relief surged through Larkin when he heard Blackcade ask about homework. This was his chance to get back at him. He wanted endless writing and discussion in his session, so he'll get endless writing at home. Maybe twenty-four hours of homework would keep him away from the celebrations. _Wait_, Larkin thought, realizing what he thought of and who he was next to.

Blackcade chuckled and said, "Yeah. Your job is to teach me, not punish me. Follow that guideline." Thus Larkin looked through Section 1's homework and marked the relevant questions that would follow up on their lesson. Excluding repetitive questions, Larkin sighed when he noticed that almost all of the twenty questions would work, but he went further:

"And reproduce each theorem without looking at your notes."

"Are you crazy?"

"First theorem to last theorem, using past results to get the new ones. You'll get real good."

Larkin believed that wouldn't work. However, Blackcade nodded, and said, "Yes, and I believe you earned your rewards today." He took out his bag to put in his papers and pencils, but he also took out a plain, white book, and a dark mason jar.

When he stood up, Larkin asked something without thinking, "So why do I know all this stuff? It seems so useless."

"I don't know, but at least I can use you," he said, and he teleported away.

"Use me? Well, fuck you, too."

Larkin looked at the book, and he recoiled backwards upon reading _Financial Mathematics_. However, he breathed easier once he read that the jar contained gelled protein which he saw at a market valued at two gold coins.

He sighed and said, "Oh, why, why is this happening to me?" He imagined a future where, just as he gets a good conversation going with a pokémon, Blackcade interrupts and sends him away to teach him why if a + c = b + c, then b = a. The solace out of all this comes with hearing his confusion, but it cost Larkin many hours.

What a hindrance it was to have these skills. Everyone needed real pokémon, not some sissy monferno only recently able to do pull ups. _Oh well_, he thought, _might as well enjoy the reward that Blackcade brought. Surely it would make up for all this._

* * *

><p>"Why do you run?" a voice spoke while Larkin leaned his head over the edge of a mattress to greet the coffee stained carpet from the hundreds of businessmen and truckers over the ages. In addition to the smell of Lysol, the ink from the mountains of books around him stuffed his nose with inks while teasing him with a sweet honey smell from ten golden books.<p>

He looked up. Clear as the floor to ceiling mirror, he was a chimchar. Something about in its eyes felt off, but the dream kept him locked in its distractions and the voice repeated itself.

"What else would I do?" he replied, emotionless.

"They got me . . . You have a way out if you do the right thing, so get it done." Something felt familiar from this voice.

"You don't mean?"

"A life sentence either way, friend." He didn't feel it, but tears dripped from his eyes. "I knew it, you're all talk, and you're doomed like me."

* * *

><p>Larkin woke up to the morning sun like when Krauss awoke him yesterday. Last thing he remembered was complaining about tutoring. He jumped off the floor and heard his legs and back crack. He stumbled onto an empty jar and the book. <em>Oh my, I slept through all of yesterday! What a killjoy he is<em>, _I should have NEVER ate that gel!_ he thought, standing up.

"A sleeping potion?" he said, noticing no pain even though he expected to be crying from what felt like the worst sleeping cramp ever. He clenched his hands, and noticed bulging. His muscles could bulge now, even if mere children of the town still overpowered him.

He felt something stronger than a bowl of ice cream augment his energy when he stood up and looked at the walls of his closet room. Inspecting the area around him, he wanted to release this energy, but didn't know how. He jumped onto the wall and then jumped sideways to the opposite wall, but he landed wrong and knocked his head on it.

"Somehow that felt awesome, but, oh gosh, what's that stabbing pain?" He patted his back and felt a square mold in his skin. He slept on the white book all night. It would get better though, so that wasn't a worry.

He lied back down to plan what to do and relax the tension. . . _ah_, he thought, _Delilah would be perfect for a chat, but I have no idea where she and the co-workers went_.

He rolled his head to his left and noticed both books. Books . . . books like in that dream last night. He jumped up like he did before and almost hit the ceiling. He had one window, that room had one grand window to the side with curtains, and that mattress felt soft. What was a mattress? What was coffee? What were men? And why were these two books golden in the dream?

He wrapped his hands around the calculus book and struggled to open it, finding that his fingers slipped from the cover. He breathed, and opened it calmly. He understood everything. Totally useless. Yet, he scrambled to find a pencil and paper to write with before the dream faded. _Of course, the chalkboard!_ Thus he picked up the chalk.

He wrote the words the voice said, the setting, and then he cringed and shut his eyes, struggling to remember any titles from the books around him. That trip of sleep he went into hooked onto something sunk in the sands of his mind. Even the tears at the end deserved to be hooked back to reality. However, like a chimchar, he fell back in defeat and looked up at the board. The memories escaped his fishing.

_Ah, but that grumpig friend of Delilah's_, Larkin thought,_ surely he could dig deeper_. Indeed, he was the first psychic-type since Blackcade that he had seen.

So he went downstairs and saw the grumpig sitting under the chandelier while many townspokémon slept on the floor or played cards on tables they unstacked.

He and others peeked at him, not fully turning towards him, and Larkin wondered why. However, they returned to their business, but dragged their eyes up sometimes to investigate him like he was a thief in a store.

"I think I have a band to contribute, could you help?" he asked, taking advantage of how everyone who was in line yesterday now did other things. The grumpig spun his pink tail and almost oinked when he replied with:

"Oh? You have a moment to share?" he said, chuckling.

With Blackcade in mind, Larkin let off a pained smile and nodded. "I suppose so, but I want your help for some good moments." His pig ears jolted up. "Could you read my mind?"

"Sure, but what am I looking for?"

"My dream from last night, whose voice was that?"

"Sure, stranger, I'm going to do this painlessly, but you have to focus on my eyes," he said, pointing to his eyes with one hand. Larkin nodded and gazed at the dark purple eyes and the cheerful smile of the pig became serious like that of Toney. He only felt a buzz ring from his ears to his skull, and a momentary shock when his eyes darted to someone's movement at the door. The buzz stopped, and the pig closed his eyes while rubbing his forehead's black pearls. He moaned with non-mutual pain that raised the head of a rhydon from his card table.

"Are you all right?" Larkin asked, noticing him shake his head free of whatever had clamped on him. He opened his eyes and shook his head. "What happened?"

"There are two sets of memories, but they are distinctly coded as if you wore a special dark type crystal. They fought back at my mind-reading."

"Two . . . and I only understand the smaller of the sets?" Larkin said, frowning and lowering his shoulders.

"I guess so." He leaned close to Larkin and whispered. "Somebody altered your brain by putting you near to death. Don't ask for my help again."

"Huh?" Larkin whispered.

"I don't want to know what Blackcade does. Nobody goes within a kilometer of his ranch, and a coward pig like me has no place researching how he did this to you."

"I see," Larkin said, lowering his eyes towards a box of bands. This resurfaced resentment in him, but he held it down to say, "I still can contribute. . . and help clean up these empty containers on the floor."

After Larkin wrote on two bands and handed them to the grumpig, he crushed some empty boxes to compensate the pig for whatever his mind did to him. Once outside, he slapped his cheeks in surprise at how a Ferris wheel popped up on the street overnight.

* * *

><p>The rhydon at the card table threw down his cards and punched his partner's shoulder.<p>

"Go-Go, you heard that, didn't you?" he said to the golem who was barely affected by the rock crushing punch on his shell.

"No," he said, looking up from his cards. "Huh, you quitting with that good of hand?"

"And so are you!" he said, slapping down the cards while leaving the farfetch'd stranger on the other side of the table confused. He sighed and took his winnings while the two bickered. "I knew there was something off about the janitor," he whispered, tapping his horn on Go-Go's shell and dragging him to the grumpig.

"And what's so special about him?" he said,.

"Shut it, bro. Hey, grumpig—"

"My name's Ed," he said, frowning at the disrespect echoing from Go-Go. "So what do you want, Team Groundpound? Hm, Mr. Clancy?" he said, rubbing his fingers together in his hands while looking out the door, indifferent to their noise.

"I want to see what Larkin wrote, Ed."

"Easy," he said, untying and transporting the two bands to Clancy's stone hoof hands. "Everyone's welcome to look at others' sorrows and joys here and anywhere else."

"Indeed . . ." he said, forcing a polite face and reading Larkin's dream. Then he shoved the band into Go-Go's grip and smirked. "I was right, partner," he said. Go-Go glared at him and looked down to study the band.

He dropped the band and his objections melted from his face. In addition, his jaw dropped low like melted candle wax as soon as he finished. The stories from the past week about Blackcade and Larkin ignited into a trio of theories in Clancy's mind. He picked up the band again and thanked Ed before holding it longer. Ed squinted at him for not returning the band, but he waited. After all, Go-Go would explode with negative and positive excitement, but he silenced himself, preferring to save the talk for a louder space.

"Ed, this band cannot go back up on the chandelier," Clancy whispered, causing Ed to clench his hands at the insulting idea.


End file.
